How John Johnston Quarrelled With John Smith
by Tanalye
Summary: Based on the "How Ivan Ivanovich Quarrelled with Ivan Nikiforovich" by Nikolai Gogol, but it's set in rural Australia
1. Chapter 1

**_I_**

**_John Johnston and John Smith_**

My Dear, make yourself comfortable because I want to tell you the story of the two Johns, but before I begin I must tell you that I have the most _dreadful_ memory and cannot remember how this tale ends. You could talk my ear off with all the details and stories in the world and they will roll off my back like water on a ducks! I am very aware of this fatal flaw and when I was first told this tale I had the teller, Benjamin Greenlane do you know of him? No matter, when he first told me this tale I had him write it out on pieces of looseleaf paper, but alas! My dearest mother used the last of these pages to start a fire one cold night so the end forever escapes me, but if you must know just go down to the Crown Hotel Pub in Buninyong and ask any local to recount the tale for they will know.

John Johnston's house is just a 10 minute drive from the small town of Buninyong, and what a town it is! If you were to visit you would be welcomed by old buildings with new modern signs and well maintained facades. Many cafés line the streets waiting for passing travellers or weary farmers to come and what a wonderful town it is! I could simply talk forever and in great lengths about such a place!

John Johnston comes into Buninyong once a week to get necessary supplies he cannot get himself on his own land, and what a piece of land it is! There are paddocks and large trees as well as a stable meant for horses that has since become a home for the two donkeys, Coco and Felix. There are so many flowers surrounding the house and in the gardens that in spring bloom into a beautiful collage of colour, oh how the bees love it so! The flower gardens are maintained by John Johnston's maid and farm-hand Hanna1. Oh and I have yet to tell you of all the fine crops he has! It is harder to tell what John Johnston doesn't have than what he does! Both sides of the long drive leading up to the house, fenced by flowering bushes, contain a myriad of fruits and vegetables which he sells to locals when they come to visit or at the monthly Saturday Market. He has plums, pears, cherries and some of the crispiest, juiciest apples I have ever eaten, just to name a few! What a wonderful sight to see! It is also rumoured that two peacocks like to come a visit the property on occasion, John Johnston has an impressive giant flower vase full of peacock feathers to prove that particular tale as well, sometimes if one listens closely it can hear a distant call or see a flash of blue-green darting about the property.

Every evening John Johnston will go and sit outside on one of the verandas to his home and admire the view, he often orders Hanna to bring him a pitcher of homemade apple juice, which is always in high stock, and a glass. He will sit and drink and watch the sun set over his fine land, and what a fine piece of land it is! After he will write in a little note book where he sat and if he ate 'he ate such and such with it' or he had company that 'so and so joined him'.

Oh but enough of John Johnston! I have yet to tell you about his neighbour John Smith! John Smith is a fine man with a property just as fine as John Johnston's, but instead of having a fine garden he has a host of chickens and some lovely white ducks who sometimes make a habit of walking near or onto the dirt road between these two properties. What fabulous birds they are indeed! They live such tremendous lives that their meat is one of the most pleasurable things I have ever eaten! John Smith often sells some of these fine birds every other month at the Saturday Market. They are so wonderful even the most blundering cooks would struggle to ruin the magnificent creatures! The birds are often purchased by the locals with the butcher having a different arrangement with John Smith so he may sell those fine cuts of meat in his store. They often get sold out within the week of locals knowing that the butcher has John Smith chickens and ducks in stock. Oh but enough about those fabulous birds! But oh I could talk all day about them!

Every Sunday at noon instead of going to church John Smith an John Johnston would make a habit of going to the others house and eating a meal of fresh fruit and a cold roast chicken with large helpings of bread and butter and wash it all down with freshly baked pastries. They would sit outside in the sun or if the weather was rotten they would sit inside near a fireplace and enjoy their meals talking about anything and everything that came to mind, from the weather to how each others properties were doing, you could find no finer friends than John Johnston and John Smith.


	2. Chapter 2

**_II._**

**_In which we learn what John Johnston wanted and the conversation between John Johnston and John Smith, and how it was concluded_**

One dry summers day John Johnston sat out on his front veranda enjoying the cool breeze coming in that took the edge off the heat. To the south he could see big bruised clouds that would bring rain and a cool change that his garden would most welcome. He decided to pay a visit to John Smith before the rain came in force and his quick walk would at least double in length and he be soaked to the bone.

John Johnston put on his thick brown Barbour wax jacket, despite the heat, as he may need it to return to his house. He walked at quick pace looking forward to seeing his friend even though it was a Friday and one o'clock, (not his usual visiting time or day) he knew that John Smith would welcome him into his home if he himself was not already outside. John Johnston walked across the yellow-orange stock grid that was at the entrance to his driveway, slowing his pace so he did not place a foot in-between the bars and find himself stuck. He quickened his pace again walking up the street, the walk not taking him long, a minute at the most. As he walked down John Smith's driveway, it was notably shorter than his own, he saw a maid, which he did not know the name of, quickly walking between the hills hoist and the house with armfuls of clothes.

'What a silly woman!' Thought John Johnston, 'she need only bring a basket and do only one round trip!' John Johnston then saw something that caught his eye, hanging precariously on one of the lines was an ornate looking wood axe, it was a wonder how it didn't fall off the line or cut through it!

And what a beautiful axe it was, a shining metal head freshly polished with the motif of a tree from root to tip was shown. The handle itself was simple but made out of the finest oak that John Johnston had ever seen, he simply _had_ to trade John Smith something for it for he had never seen the fellow use such an item before! Even in the many visits to John Smith's house John Johnston had never seen the axe in any room at all! John Johnston thought to himself that it would make a great feature in his home and he would rather fancy using it to chop wood from time to time.

'Excuse me!' He called out to the woman, 'how long has John Smith had that fine axe?'

The woman turned as if startled, surprised by the sudden call 'oh John Johnston I didn't see you! Can you repeat your question?'

'Why certainly, how long has John Smith had that fine axe?' He gestured to it.

'Oh! I'm not rather sure, far longer than I've been employed to him that's for sure!' John Johnston was slightly disappointed by this response as it meant his old friend hadn't ever mentioned it in the many years that they had known each other.

'Where might I find John Smith?'

'He is sunbathing in the backyard with Abigail, John Johnston' Abigail is John Smith's pet goose. She was also his only goose and was rather fond of following John Smith around during his chores, but was strictly banned from the house due to an incident in which she destroyed the lounge. John Johnston walked around to the back of the house to find John Smith after thanking the woman. As he rounded the corner he was met with a rather funny site indeed! John Smith was stretched out on a banana lounge wearing nothing but boxers and sunglasses whilst Abigail floated in a small blue kiddie pool next to the banana lounge.

'Good afternoon John Smith!' John Johnston exclaimed as he walked around to the front of the banana lounge where John Smith could see him without moving from his current position.

'And a good day to you John Johnston! You must be nearly blinded seeing this much pale skin in such bright light!'

'It doesn't worry me for I have seen much brighter! Just look at your prized Abigail, she is positively glowing!'

'How right you are John Johnston! What lovely weather we are having today, even if it is hard to escape the heat!'

'Not long to wait now John Smith as there is a mighty storm brewing!'

'Right you are John Johnston! I will have to retire inside soon it seems' the pair turned and looked towards the storm which was rapidly approaching, it was even darker than before.

'I hope your maid gets all your clothes in before the storm comes, it would almost make it a waste to hang them up at all!'

'Yes indeed, it would be a terrible irony especially since they have just finished drying!'

'I hope she has time to bring in that axe of yours as well, it would be a terrible shame for such brilliant craftsmanship to rust!'

'A terrible shame indeed, you seem to have taken a liking to my axe John Johnston haven't you?'

'Yes, I suppose I have. I have never seen it before either, what would you trade for such a thing?' John Smith seemed to be taken aback by John Johnston's sudden proposal of a trade.

'How could you propose such a thing!' John Smith exclaimed sitting up in the banana lounge, 'that axe has been in my family for generations! It traces all the way back to my distant relative Ivan Nikiforovich! Not even Satan himself could part me from that axe!' Abigail honked to punctuate the point.

John Johnston seemed unperturbed by John Smith's sudden outburst, 'there's no need to get your boxers all in a bunch John Smith, but would not even trade for a baker's dozen of my finest fresh bottled juice?

'I would not trade all the juice in the world for my precious axe!'

'But you don't even use the axe!'

'IT IS AN ANTIQUE JOHN JOHNSTON AND I SHALL TELL YOU AGAIN I AM NOT PARTING WITH IT!' John Smith was now sat on the edge of the banana lounge, if he were a cat he would have his ears flattened and hissing, Abigail hissed instead. To make up for this fact one could see his sizeable moustache twitch and fluff up instead: 'and what liberty on your part, John Johnston, offering me devils knows what for my axe. Some juice!' John Smith had now raised himself to full height and removed his sunglasses to stare eye to eye with John Johnston.

'Sit down, sit down! To hell with the axe! Let it rust! I shall not so much as mention it again.' John Smith returned himself to the banana lounge calmed by this, tension ran out of his shoulders as quickly as rushing water. The small argument appearing to be over John Smith reached under the lounge and pulled out a water bottle that John Johnston hadn't seen when he approached and took a sip. John Johnston then began to speak again:

'Listen, John Smith. Besides the juice I will offer you one of my lovely donkeys, they make quite wondrous pets!' If it were possible for a goose to look insulted one could have looked over and seen that expression of Abigail's face. At this comment John Smith raised himself to full height and boomed out:

'HOW _DARE_ YOU INSULT MY WONDERFUL ABIGAIL!' He calmed slightly to a stern tone, 'I have half the mind to have her chase you off my property! First my axe then Abigail! What would I even do with a donkey? You, John Johnston, are a perfect _cock_.'

At this comment John Johnston became terribly enraged, if John Smith had used another word maybe the quarrel would have ended in a better light, but it did not.

'What did you call me?'

'I called you a cock John Johnston! Strutting about as if you owned the place, a perfect cock!'

'How are you sir be so unaware of my standing and position in Buninyong! How _dare_ you insult me with such a word!'

'Why are you flapping your arms around John Johnston?' If one could watch the scene John Johnston would indeed be seen waving his hands around in a similar manner to a chicken.

'Such _slander_! I would very much like to rip that moustache off your face, John Smith!'

'And I would like to spit in yours, John Johnston! What are you squawking about?' If it were possible John Johnston's face went as red as one of his apples in rage. His face scrunched in anger as if he had bitten full force on a lemon. It was extremely rare to see John Johnston look anything like this, he started to speak again:

'To inform you I don't want anything to do with you anymore!'

'Such a shame! Don't worry though I won't lose any sleep over it!' He was lying, he was in-fact very upset by the whole ordeal.

'I will never set foot in your house again John Smith!'

'Good!' John Smith exclaimed, 'if you do I will sick Abigail on you! I have half the mind to now!' He turned to Abigail who was still in the kiddie pool and let out a bellow: 'ABIGAIL GET HIM!' Abigail rose up and flapped her wings and hissed. John Johnston had no choice but to run as a very angry goose ran after him. As he neared the edge of John Smith's property John Johnston felt wings and sharp webbed feet on the back of his head and shoulders. He fell trying to shake Abigail off himself, rolling onto his back to get up again John Johnston was met with the face of a very angry goose. He could do nothing but watch as Abigail firmly bit into his nose.

'Abigail come here!' John Smith called out allowing John Johnston to get up and retreat to his property. John Johnston made an obscene gesture with one finger and left the property: 'That one's for you, John Smith!'

Not one more word was exchanged between the two as John Johnston left. Now next to John Smith Abigail honked as if in victory. John Smith opened his mouth as if to say something but changed his mind and turned and went inside to escape the rains which had now burst from the heavens.


End file.
